Death

To what do I owe the pleasure

Of this bleak and bitter end

A sleep no man can cure

Though with malice one can send

Deserved of the wicked

But inflicted on the pure

No reaper shall be tricked

And why I am not sure

Welcomed by the suffering

Though feared by the young

The gates you are now entering

With humble heads all hung

A heart is pierced by bitter steel

Death, the wound no one shall heal